


A Hundred Golden Eggs

by voleuse



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-06
Updated: 2009-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>You will never accept this duck because I never will</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hundred Golden Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 4.07. Title and summary adapted from Andrew Lux's _Fly My Duck_.

It was Michael's fault, really.

Ryan called Toby at 9:32 on Monday morning. "Why didn't I get a memo about the extra seminar on harassment?"

"We have it every year," Toby noted. "You remember, don't you?"

"You don't have the budget for it," Ryan observed.

"It's folded into the office supplies account," Toby explained. "It was Jan's idea."

There was a moment of quiet, punctuated by three harsh keyboard clicks. "I was wondering how you guys used so many paper clips," Ryan finally said.

"Dwight made some chain-mail yesterday," Toby confessed. "He challenged Andy to a duel."

A pause.

"Do I want to know about this?" Ryan asked.

Toby shrugged at the reflection in his monitor.

 

*

 

It was a few weeks later that Michael stepped out of the office and announced they were sending a Strip-o-Gram to Ryan for his birthday, and also, Pam had a Hallmark card sitting on her desk, so everybody should remember to sign it before lunch.

Toby leaned back in his chair, took his ritual three breaths of serenity. Then he stood, walked out to the main bullpen. "Michael, I don't think that's an appropriate gift for your boss. Or a coworker." He put his hands in his pockets. "Or anyone, actually."

The glare Michael gave him was almost exasperated. "That's because you're not a good friend. Toby." He smirked. "If you have any friends. That are men. Or if you are--"

"Have you already sent it," Jim interrupted, "or are we supposed to chip in?"

"Ryan works with us," Michael says, "so it's obviously a work expense."

"Obviously," Jim replied.

On his left, Toby heard Oscar's forehead make contact with his desk.

Toby rescheduled his afternoon appointment with Dwight, and he picked up Ryan's call on the first ring.

"What the hell, Toby?" Ryan sputtered. "You couldn't have warned me?"

Toby scribbled across his calendar, drew long loops in graphite. "Would it have made any difference?"

Ryan sighed. "Listen, Dunder Mifflin is having a wilderness retreat this weekend. It's a leadership training thing, but all expenses are paid, and it looks good on your résumé."

Toby twisted the pencil, started drawing triangles. "Sounds like fun."

"Yeah," Ryan said. "Do you think you could get a babysitter or something that weekend? Most of us are leaving on Friday night."

"Why would I need a--" Toby's hand jerked, and the pencil lead snapped. "You want me to go?"

"Yes."

"And not Michael."

"Yes."

Toby frowned. "Is that allowed?"

"If I say it is." Ryan's smile was in his voice. "Can you make it?"

Toby knocked the broken lead from his desk in a single, efficient swipe. "I just have to make a couple of calls."

"Great," Ryan replied. "I'll e-mail you the details."

 

*

 

After the s'mores incident, the branch heads started exchanging Staples horror stories, and Toby couldn't think of anything to contribute, aside from Sasha's love of Lisa Frank binders, so he found a friendly-looking tree trunk on the outskirts of the group. He slumped against it, looked up at the sky.

Ryan ambled next to him, folded his legs as he sank to the ground. "Pretty boring," he muttered, and handed a flask over to Toby.

Toby turned it in his hands. Silver, engraved. "Flashy," he commented, then took a swig.

"Just got it," Ryan said, and he looked down as Toby coughed, the whiskey burning down. "I thought it was cool."

"Yeah." Toby passed it back, laughed at Ryan's bright eyes, at his grin. "Cool."

Ryan nodded, his fingers clutching the flask, and shoulder to shoulder, they shared the edge of the fire's light.


End file.
